


Unheard Of.

by Aziraphale7



Category: Bright Young Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 16:59:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19430242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aziraphale7/pseuds/Aziraphale7
Summary: Miles is faced with a dire situation and determines how to move forward with his life. Even if he has to leave the familiarity of his old one behind.





	Unheard Of.

**Author's Note:**

> ( There will most likely be more of this, I am just an extremely slow writer, apologies in advance! )

His heart was racing yet at such a high speed that he almost believed that it had simply _stopped_ . He was unsure how far the news had spread by now, but as soon as he had been discreetly contacted by his mother, he found it hard to move. There had been a sense of dread that had settled over him for a few days now, though he would, of course, never openly admit to such atrocious things. It seemed quite silly at the time, and oh how he wished so desperately for the feeling to return to such a state. Never in his life had he believed he’d have to slink below the radar, drop off the face of the Earth as it were. _All because he loved a man_ . Or more precisely _men_. 

Miles’ hand rested against his chest as he attempted once more to process the situation that he had so suddenly fallen into. He couldn’t return home, couldn’t bury himself in the familiarity of his belongings. The young man’s fingers clutched at the hems of his jacket, holding it closed tightly as if he may somehow shield himself from the world. He could attempt to continue his life in London, though he’d never stay within one place anymore. The moves would be constant, and who knows the distress that his friends would have to go through when the police attempted to find him. His clutching grasp on his jacket tightened at the thought. Dearest Agatha especially, was already suffering quite the trouble. He couldn’t selfishly force that upon her. 

His first instinct was to drown himself in cocktails and liquor, though, for once, he swiftly recognized such behaviour as irresponsible. If he was drunken amongst the streets, then they would most _definitely_ find him. Miles had been well aware of the laws that riddled their way through Britain, and the punishments that were possible for such a thing as this. The sudden feeling of immediate danger washed over him, sending him onto the verge of an instinctive panic. If he was caught, he’d likely be dead. His grip tightened, dainty nails nearly tearing through the tan fabric at this point. Though Miles hardly took notice of such. 

The young man could not hide his shame, yet he did not wish for anyone to see such. His legs began to move before he could truly determine where he may be off to. Where was one to go at a time like this? All this time, Miles had been quite successful at hiding himself behind a smile, hiding any fears or concerns or _shame_ he held towards himself and now the barrier seemed to be breaking. He was utterly unable to hold it all in anymore. They wanted to _arrest_ him for loving. The thought break back the pang of betrayal that he had originally felt, and the sensation of his dream world suddenly being torn apart right in front of him. The confidence, the endless nights, all of it was gone. Now he was simply a shivering and frightened core of what he used to be. 

Tears were inevitable, and they clouded his vision as Miles made his way through the chilled streets. He was practically running now, and occasionally he would swipe a hand underneath his sunglasses to attempt to wipe away lingering tears. _Hell, his makeup was probably ruined now_. All the more reason to keep the sunglasses on. Though not entirely sure of where he was going, he did not stop. He feared that if he did, someone would take notice of him and his current state of panic. Most wouldn’t recognize the Maitland son outside of his particularly suave or flamboyant outfits, but there was still a prickling fear that rose up within him anytime he passed someone by. 

After a bit of running, Miles found himself out of breath and unable to push himself onward. He leaned over slightly, panting heavily as he desperately attempted to catch his breath. Which ultimately simply made it harder to breath, as his mind flickered with panicked thoughts of time running out. He could only stay so much longer, and he hadn’t even determined where exactly he was going. His hands trembled and his body shook with small, silenced sobs. He moved to pinch the bridge of his nose, attempting to steady himself once more. 

Eventually his hand met the cold, steel frame of a shop window, causing him to look up. Miles swiftly pushed up his sunglasses once more, shielding his light eyes behind the dark lenses. It made him feel ever slightly more secure within the situation. His hands still trembled as he silently examined the various publications that were displayed in the window. A sniffle sounded from him and he carefully secured his scarf around his neck, feeling a sudden chill in the aftermath of his dread. It was like a touch of death, one that motivated him forward somehow when he felt he could not move no longer. 

There were various publications that presented supposed scandals and gossip boldly upon the front page or cover. Though Miles’ gaze swept over them apathetically, soon landing instead upon a small travel guide. His gloved fingertips pressed against the glass lightly as he leaned forward to examine it better. **Paris** . It was a small publication about travel to France. Miles had been once or twice within his life, often travelling with his mother for leisure when they were able to. His memories of the country were quite fond ones, despite the roughened state that it had been in last he had seen it. Though he supposed most countries had been going through a sort of _depression_ then. 

  
He paused, swallowing hard as he pulled away once more. Miles steadily did up the buttons of his jacket, attempting to fight the onset chill that had settled into the air. His body still shook with dread, and his heart still ached, but Miles’ mind was lost within the memory of the glorious lights of another place. _Paris was nice this time of year_. He thought.


End file.
